


Under The Surface

by seshalia



Series: If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. [5]
Category: BLACKPINK (Band), EXO (Band), exopink
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Boarding School AU, Brush With Death, Cigarettes, Dead Family Member, Drowning, Drug Abuse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Okay fuck, Rain, Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but like it takes a lot of thinking, he’s alive though, hngggg this is the most serious i’ve been with tagging, it has a happy ending, lets go, like a LOT of hurt and comfort, not that bad, okay, only one person dies, plenty hurt and plenty comfort, shitty weather, thank u aris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 00:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seshalia/pseuds/seshalia
Summary: It’s a question of why is she here, what is he doing, and who are they.
Relationships: Lalisa Manoban | Lisa/Oh Sehun
Series: If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041254
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Under The Surface

**Author's Note:**

> THIS TOOK ME A WHOLE ASS MONTH I THINK leave a kudos and a comment if u wanna mwah

Drinking in the rain isn’t the best way to deal with your problems.

Actually, scratch that; drinking in the rain isn’t  _ a way _ to deal with your problems.

Dealing with your problems includes, you know, doing something about them. Getting up on your feet, looking for solutions, or making them, or something. What’s  _ not _ an option is trying to get shitfaced on a field in the rain with your socks getting mushy with every step you take and your teeth clenched down hard enough to keep them from chattering that your jaw feels like it’s about to break into a billion fractures.

Sehun decides it’s time to get off the dirt when he trips over nothing and figures hypothermia will kill him before liver failure does. Heading for the covered bleachers, he goes up the steps, feeling the chill in his bones settle. He pauses for a split second when he notices a pair of mary jane shoes and knee-high socks in his line of sight, but concludes that he’s simply seeing things created by his untrustworthy drunken-but-doesn’t-look-like-it state. Continuing to climb the stairs, he looks up and stops.

That’s when he finds her, or she finds him, sitting at the very top. Her brown hair is a shade darker and soaked from the rain that it clings to her skin, eyes red and puffy, but he doesn’t know if it’s because she’s crying or if it’s from the cold, and something in between her lips that looks halfway burnt.

Lalisa Manoban. He doesn’t know much about her other than the fact that all her friends are from other schools who left to study abroad, so she’s all alone. Apparently, anyone who’s tried to befriend her since the first time she showed up immediately decided that she was undoubtedly unworthy of anyone’s time and deemed her a “raging bitch” more than once until the notion stuck for the rest of the years she’s been here.

He’s never spoken to her, but from what he’s seen, he supposes the rumors are true.

“What?” She asks him. Or threatens. He can’t tell the difference from the scathing tone in her voice.

“What are you doing?” He responds with a question of his own, brows furrowed in puzzlement.

She glares at him and cocks her head to the side. “What are  _ you _ doing?” 

“I asked first.” He shoots back quickly.

“And I don’t want to answer.” She retorts in similar fashion.

The rain fills the silence, and she takes two drags before he asks her something he doesn’t know why he wants an answer for. Or maybe he does.

He does.

“Are you okay?”

Lisa stares him down, given the leverage of where she sits, and he notices the black clumps of makeup underneath her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she trails off, speaking with no less vileness laced in her words. “Am I?”

“You’re not,” he concludes, taking a swig from his bottle only to earn an irritated look courtesy of the girl in front of him.

“Of course I’m not,” she spat out, irritated. “Why the fuck do you think I’m here if I’m okay? Surely  _ you  _ know that, seeing as  _ you’re  _ here.”

“I’m fine.” He lies smoothly. It’s almost believable if he hadn’t been drenched and drunk enough to strike up a conversation with the one person everyone was told to get away from. She scoffs at him, taking another drag of her cigarette.

“ _ Obviously _ ,” her voice drips with sarcasm, and she fans away the smoke. “That’s exactly why you’re in front of me with your dripping suit jacket, muddy shoes, and a bottle of whatever the fuck that is on your hand after you pulled a Sinatra and sang in the rain. You look just about absolutely fucking peachy.”

Sehun doesn’t notice the flask until she pulls it out, gulping down a hefty amount of whatever’s inside it and bringing the tobacco back to her lips.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” He asks her quickly. Lisa seems to know her way around the infamous glories of chain-smoking, and though it’d be hypocritical for him to mention it seeing as he’s past sobriety at the current moment, he can’t avoid the worried feeling that tugs in his stomach.

“Do I look like I’m trying to kill myself?” Her hand, the one with the cigarette stuck in between her index and middle fingers, motions around her.

He shrugs, his shoulders starting to feel heavy. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if I am, what’s that to you?” She squints her eyes as if she’s trying to look through him. “What would  _ you  _ do?”

“I’ll help you. Or help you get help.” He offers. Or admits. Whichever. But it is the truth. Lisa isn’t the kindest soul or the friendliest, but his decision is firm and stubborn because he’s good at that. Good at being sure. At least, that’s what he thinks. Or he used to be? Maybe. 

He’s not sure.

She hums, taking another long drag. “And what kind of help would that be?” 

“Just help.” He assures, lifting his whisky for a swig. “If you want it.”

Lisa doesn’t answer with anything more than a scoff.

“What are you even smoking?” He asks, an attempt at changing the subject, and she takes the cigarette out, pinching it between her fingers.

“Want to try?” she offers, sarcasm dripping off her voice. Sehun shakes his head and she laughs humorlessly. “Right answer. Can’t buy a pack nowadays without risking getting caught. If you said yes, I would’ve told you to get lost.”

“Well,” he trails off, watching her exhale and let the smoke fill his own lungs. “Why haven’t you?”

“Because  _ Oh _ ,” Lisa smiles sinisterly and leans forward. “If you’re here,” she’s close enough that he can smell ash, brandy, and her perfume all wrapped in one scent. “Then that means you’re just as fucked up as me.”

They stay there, unmoving, and then she fishes out something from her pocket. A metal box. There, she picks out a perfectly dry cigarette.

“And for some reason, that makes me feel better about myself.”

She hands it to him.

Confusion paints his face. “I thought you —”

“Take it,” Lisa cuts him off, obviously not willing to take no for an answer. “Before I change my mind.”

He gives it one last look before taking it from her, pressing it between his lips. She takes out a lighter and lights it up for him, and he breathes in.

-

Their walk back to the dorms is fuzzy, with his head light and his feet almost weightless. There’s about a three feet long space between them, and she’s two steps ahead of him. It’s an unspoken agreement because he still has a reputation of being the golden boy, and she still has a reputation of being a she-devil, both of which they still would like to keep.

Although it’s his first time — and possibly last time, unless the world persists otherwise — spending more than ten minutes alone with the so-called lone shrew, and that the gossip along with his own deductions of her unpleasant personality don’t exactly oppose her nature, he thinks that she doesn’t really live up to it. Like there’s more to her than what meets the eye.

Maybe he got lucky enough to catch her with enough curtains open to let him have a peek of what the real Lalisa Manoban looks like.

Or maybe he’s too fucked up right now to think about it, and it’s best for him to sleep it off.

-

It’s one thing to be alone in school, but it’s another to be alone on the continent.

Jisoo is living her life in Barcelona, Jennie walks the streets of Paris, Rosé now roams Rome, and they all left her in this stupid boarding school in New  _ fucking _ Jersey. Well, they didn’t leave her per se, just packed their bags and left when they got the chance to because  _ who wouldn’t _ , and she had to stay because her luck’s as dry as the Sahara, and no one wants to give the bastard child of a politician and pornstar anything more than a spit in the eye and a few sneers like it’s her fault the old man and the old hag got it on and had her. The fact that she’s even here in this snobby school in the first place is a fucking miracle. Or nightmare, curse, whatever the fuck.

Lisa’s a secret to anyone except the people who birthed her, maybe a couple of blood “relatives” or “family friends”, and the school admin. To be honest? She doesn’t know. It didn’t matter though, because even if dollar bills cut the faculty’s vocal cords before they could say anything about her parentage, the students of St. Adeline’s had the money and resources to search shit up for themselves so truthfully, it was pointless hiding her.

It was during her very first week when she ran into what would be her first and final fall from grace that involved a boy who wanted to sleep with someone three years younger than him and a girl who couldn’t put that said boy on a leash. There was a fight, some other bullshit about her being a whore because  _ the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree _ , and rumors flew that blew up and ended with her being shunned by everyone, not even a month in.

Her luck officially ran out when it was spent on the articles and records of her family tree being wiped off wherever you could find them like that would help because her guess is that everyone already knows. And even if they didn’t, does it really matter? After all, word of mouth is more believable than anything in the world, and word of mouth says she’s nothing but a troubling wench, ruining this prestigious school’s name, ta-ta ta-ta.

Does she have a choice? Another way to be happy? An upside to this? The answer is yes, and it involves traumatizing an entire building of teenagers with a dead body. Although it still looks pretty tempting even now, her spite to live to piss off her very-not-nice sperm donor with the fact that she still exists brings her far too much joy.

And possibly because despite the world being a cruel piece of shit, she doesn’t actually want to die.

So she took that stupid nickname that girl gave her. She grabbed the title of Queen Raging Bitch and ran, practically snarled at anyone who even breathed near her before they could show off their own fangs, sink their teeth in her jugular, and get to her first because the only way she’ll ever go down is by doing it herself. If no one got close, no one would get eaten.

Including her.

But it was all worthless in the end because Sehun  _ fucking _ Oh keeps coming back in her little bubble of space, and he’s already barged more times than she’d like to admit. One of those times being right now, with him soaked to the bone and his thumb over the hole where he snogs the bottle of whisky to keep it from tasting like rainwater. She’s seen him with that one tall Park guy who plays basketball so it’s not like he’s lonely or doesn’t have any friends. And even if he didn’t have any friends, it’s not like it would be hard for him to make any, the guy's a walking friendship bracelet weaved into the shape of a person. He’s the nice popular guy who’s on the other end of the spectrum, far from where she’s placed.

But for some stupid reason, he’s here, headed towards her, drunker than before, steps sloppier than last time, and she's sure that the chances of him tripping and falling on his face are higher than Empire State.

For a second, it’s funny, and she almost cracks a smile because he looks absurd. It’s entertaining to watch a preppy boy with a short haircut and three “Most Influential Student” awards struggle to stand on solid ground.

Then it isn’t when she realizes that she’ll be forced to take the blame if he breaks his nose from walking under the influence. She can already hear how she apparently forced him to  _ partake in activities only hellions and miscreants do _ as if she was the one who dragged him into the mess he’s in when in reality, the world decided to make her a magnet for shitfaced model pupils when the weather’s too frightening for anyone else to come out.

By the time he finds her, it’s not so funny anymore.

“Lisa!” He calls from the rain, a bottle raised in the air and their school jacket nowhere in sight, so the white dress shirt he wears underneath sticks to him like wet paper, and it’s practically translucent that she can trace the lines of his abdomen and call it art theft because  _ Jesus fucking Christ, people are allowed to look like that? _ . It seems like even public inebriation can’t make Sehun Oh any less attractive.

“Oh!” She returns with a condescending tone in her voice. “You look rather dashing.”

Admittedly, Sehun Oh is  _ not _ completely terrible company, but she likes to think that it’s only because he’s drunk that he’s tolerable. Their conversations are mostly neutral enough to pass up as boring if they were sober, but there’s always something new about him in every exchange. It’s as if she gets to see some part of him that possibly only she knows of.

She hopes not, though. It’ll make her feel special.

“I feel alive!” He laughs, and he heads towards her, water dripping off of him and leaving a wet trail behind.

“You  _ are _ alive,” she points out when he reaches her. “You’re standing in front of me.”

“Am I really?” Sehun wonders hazily, and as always her interest piques, much to her dismay. “Because I read that atoms don’t actually touch, and because we’re made of atoms, that means  _ we _ don’t touch. That means I have never really touched this,” his knuckle brushes the bleacher before giving it a knock. “Or this,” he motions to the bottle. “We’re all just small pieces, hovering over each other, but not connected. Not tight-knit. We’re not solid.”

Then, he leans forward, and the gap is wide enough for her to see every part of his face. She can see his tired, bloodshot eyes, his chapped lips from the cold, and the spray of freckles over his nose and across his cheeks along with the scar that dips in his flesh on the right. Her breath hitches when he inches closer, and he gives her a smile that feels like he’s telling her a secret. Something only they would know. 

“We,” he whispers, hot breath fanning her face. “Are not here.”

Lisa shakes her head and pushes him away gently. “Very existential. You always like that when you’re drunk?”

He chuckles, lifting his bottle for a swig. “Mmm, you’d have to talk to me longer to figure out.”

“Attached to me already, Oh?” She jokes dryly as she lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag.

“Don’t call me Oh,” he frowns, only making her brows raise. “It’s my last name  _ and _ it’s an interjection. I,” he takes the cigarette from her hand, looks away from her, and presses it between his lips for a puff. The smoke fogs his face, and she watches him in this element, trying to piece and make sense of their situation. “Have a name,” he gives it back to her, and she stares at him before she traps it in between her lips once more, earning her a lightheaded grin. “Use it.”

“And if I don’t want to,  _ Oh _ ,” she sneers, realizing a tad bit too late that she just shared a cigarette with him. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Say my name,  _ Lalisa _ .” 

Sehun turns to face her, and she gives him a bored stare. He answers by throwing her a pointed glance, waiting for her to give in, but she ignores him by taking another drag.

“Say my name.” He asks again, voice soft that she almost didn’t hear him. Almost. “ _ Please _ .”

Of all things Lisa expected to happen in her life, having the very most epitome of a prodigy child in a single human body ask her— scratch that,  _ beg her _ , to say his first name wasn’t one of them. But there’s this pathetic look on his face that tells her to just do it because there’s no reason for her to be so iffy about it. It’s just a name, and it’s just for today. It won’t kill her.

“Okay then,  _ Sehun _ ,” she says, reaching with her hand forward to snatch the whisky away from him. “Stop hogging.”

He pulls away from her, laughing at her failure to grab it. His laugh sounds weird and high-pitched, and it’s the perfect mix of annoyingly charming and plain annoying. She gives it one more try with a jump that leaves her cigarette to die in a puddle, but he’s still taller and faster. On her third attempt, her foot twists, and she trips. Closing her eyes shut, she waits for the fall, but all she ends up with is the feeling of arms wrapped awkwardly around her.

Then, she hears it.

That stupid laugh from the stupid guy who caught her, and she can feel his stupid abs with every single stupid wheeze and how his stupid white shirt is pressing against her and it sticks to her own stupid white blouse because she’s just as damp from the stupid rain as he is so she pushes herself off him because it’s all stupid, this is stupid, everything is stupid.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

But when she opens her eyes, she can’t help but stare. 

His head is thrown back, eyes closed shut, and droplets of water fall from his eyelashes that look like tears. He gasps in a breath, calming himself, whisky still in hand, and sighs. 

She nearly jumps when he grabs her hand and curls his fingers around the bottle’s neck like he’s teaching her how to hold things properly. His fingers feel calloused, probably from all that hard work he does, and his palm feels warm even if he’s still soaked to the bone. He doesn’t let go, so she tightens her grip around the glass and tries to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach. Once he takes his hand off, deeming her ready, she meets his eye, and her lungs fail to function.

He looks just as confused as she is, brows furrowed and mouth parted slightly that the air condenses as he exhales. But he looks calmer. Surprised, even. Of what? She doesn’t know. 

Breathing in deeply, she turns away and drinks.

-

Sehun hasn’t been fine in a long time, and it’s starting to show like a bloodstain on white fabric or water seeping through the crevices of closed hands. It’s obvious. It’s inevitable. The best way to start dealing with it would be to talk about it, but talking isn’t one of the options he’s considering, so he does the only thing he knows and walks away.

Away from Chanyeol who keeps asking if he’s fine. Away from the dorms where everyone can watch how he slowly falls apart. Away from everything and everyone before the cracks start to show. For the first time, he’s empty-handed with no plans of going to the field, but he walks.

A part of him wants to go to her. To find Lisa. The sky is grey enough to be promising, and when it comes to running away from everything, she seems to think the same way he does. But he’s stone-cold sober, and it’s too early for him to talk to her without a bottle to make things interesting (which he reckons is the only reason why she bothers to even talk to him). He doesn’t want to risk it because whatever it is that he has with her, it’s something he’d rather not lose.

And God knows he can’t take another loss.

Being around Lisa feels like freedom. She’s like an escape. A distraction. She’s not different from what people say, but she’s not  _ just _ that. He wants to know more of her, and in some weird way, she lets him. And it feels nice. It feels nice that she lets him in, even if it’s through the tiny opening of her smallest window. That she sees him, and talks to him, and notices him when it’s the last thing he wants right now from anyone else who isn’t her.

But he ends up in the woods, and it seems as though fate wants to play a game with him. 

She’s on a tree, sitting on a large branch with her jacket long gone and her feet swinging back and forth. There’s also the unmistakable trail of smoke that follows her around like a dark cloud. At first, he thinks that she’s here because she wants to be on her own and that it’s probably best to give her space, but another part of him doesn’t want to go.

At that moment, he’s frozen. If he comes up to her, she’ll probably think that he’s being a creep and following her around. If he leaves her, well... he doesn’t think he can trust her to be alone. He doesn’t want her to be alone. 

So he stays.

It’s about a minute in when he hears it, the faint crack that she doesn’t notice until it’s too late. He doesn’t even realize how he breaks into a sprint, mind blank, heartbeat rapid, lungs burning, and it makes him feel alive for the worst reason possible. The rush and reminder of fragile mortality. He throws his body, aiming to catch her or at least break her fall, and hopes for the best.

“ _ Fuck _ .”

A rush of relief sends Sehun to a frenzy the very second he hears her voice. He opens his eyes and finds her over his chest, hair tousled, looking directly at him, and from what he can see, safe.

Words come with difficulty, so he stays mute and watches her push herself off of him to sit with her back against the trunk of another tree. She’s panting, hands behind her neck and head resting on the bark with her eyes shut. The bristling leaves and their shallow breaths fill the silence, and the moment feels like it lasts for hours.

“What the hell are you doing here, Oh?”

“Needed—“ he takes a sharp inhale when pain shoots up on his side. “A break. And you should really call me Sehun.”

“You sure you’re not stalking me?” She questions flatly, throwing him an irritated glance.

Truth be told, he wants to be annoyed at her lack of thankfulness, but he gives her the benefit of the doubt and assumes her exasperation is just her way of being worried about him.

(He doesn’t know this yet, but it is.)

“I’m a busy man,” he replies through gritted teeth, ignoring the ache across his back. He manages to get up on his feet and finds something to lean on for support before giving her a quick once-over. “I don’t have time for that. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She grumbles, propping her elbows on her knees before lifting herself up. He only sees it for a split second, but he notices something red and acts before he thinks. He rushes too quickly, and he sees stars for a split second before reaching for her hand. She moves, retracting it quickly and hides it behind her back.

“Let me see,” Sehun requests, sounding more like an order with the evident — but also not indented — strict tone in his voice.

“It’s fine—“ Lisa isn’t able to finish her sentence when he catches her wrist. Her knuckles are painted red, blue, and purple with dried blood and bruises. Mindlessly, his fingers graze across the skin, causing her to flinch.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, letting her go.

“‘S not from the fall,” she looks away from him, darting her tongue across her lips. “I just needed to punch something.”

“You and me both,” he mutters.

Her head picks up quickly at his reply. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says while shaking his head. “You should get this checked.”

“I’ll be fine,” she dismisses, pulling her hand back. “You need it more.”

He gives her a curt nod, ready to leave, when she pulls him back by the elbow. Turning abruptly to face her, he finds her wide-eyed for a moment, and then she lets go of her hold.

“Your jacket sleeve,” Lisa points to his shoulder, and he moves his eyes to find the seams torn, fabric falling limp. “It’s ripped.”

“I guess it is,” he utters quietly, rolling his shoulder to check for pain.

Lisa clicks her tongue and tiptoes to examine it as well. “I’ll stitch that back up for you. Probably not enough, but it’ll lessen the debt. Unless you want me to pay you back with money or buy you a new one. If that’s the case, I’ll see what I can do.”

Confused, he asks, “What debt?”

“You know,” she grumbles, avoiding his gaze. “Saving my life.”

There are things that Sehun has realized he doesn’t like feeling, and one of them is having people think they owe him anything. 

“You don’t have to,” he begins, and based on the annoyed look she’s giving him, she wants to argue about it, so he cuts her off before she can start. “I just want one thing.”

“Well,” she crosses her arms. “Spit it out, then.”

“Call me Sehun. If you call me Oh ever again, the deal is off. And I get to call you Lisa.”

“That’s it?” She replies dryly, and the grin that he breaks out answers it for her.

“It’s the only thing I want,” he assures. “Debt will be fully paid.”

“Fine.” she rolls her eyes, sighing irritably. “Deal taken. Or whatever.”

The grin widens, and Sehun can’t help it. Some part of his brain probably thinks he’s won something. He supposes there are things only Lisa can make him feel. “Thanks, Lis.”

“I allowed you to use Lisa,” she reminded, voice vicious while starting to walk back to the main campus. “Not give me a nickname.”

-

For one night, Sehun doesn’t think about his decisions, his actions, anything really. He doesn’t think about anything. But he stands, grabs his new flask, and slips out of the dorms while everyone enjoys what this Halloween night has to offer, and he goes unnoticed. Avoiding windows, staying out of sight, and disappearing have never been things he thought he could crave so much. Being invisible or leaving and never coming back are ideas that fill his mind like water in an empty pool. The idea of being  _ gone  _ isn’t as bad as he once thought it was.

He remembers he can’t leave this place. Not yet, at least. But he can pretend.

In his walk, he passes by other students lighting joints and cigarettes in hidden spaces, while some are pressed against the wall with someone else’s body on top of theirs. He avoids staring, not because his values never seem to leave him despite his lack of sobriety, but because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to gawk, so he won’t. He has better things to do with his fucking time. Time he has so much of, or so little? He doesn’t even know anymore.

Another thing he doesn’t know where he’s headed. All he knows is that it’s far. From people, from school, from everyone. He’s far from his family, and he’s far from home.

Home.

A moment passes, and he shakes his head before letting the cold mouth of his flask meet with his to let the amber liquid leave a burning trail down to his stomach, not wanting to remember what his old home was like or if he still has one. Could he still have one? 

His vision is blurry, and he wonders if it’s raining. He doesn’t cry. He  _ can’t  _ cry. He lost the right to do so a long, long time ago. Squinting, he can’t seem to tell where he is, but it’s freezing, and his hands and fingers are wrinkled and wet. It’s raining. He blinks, letting water fall from his lashes to his cheeks, and tells himself it's the rain.

Looking down at his feet, he feels tiny splashes on his calves even if he's standing still. With a turn, he loses his footing, and the cold envelopes him. He thinks he should move, and he tries, but his arms feel numb and slow, like he’s being pulled back. Panic swarms in his chest and spreads across his body, shaking his bones to  _ get out _ , but he can’t. He can’t move. He can’t scream. He can’t breathe. Time moves, and whether it’s slowly or quickly, he doesn’t know anymore, so as it passes, his eyes close shut until all he can see is pitch black.

-

It was Chanyeol who noticed he was missing from his room and absent from festivities, and Chanyeol  _ again _ who found him and pulled him out of wherever he was. He knows he's safe now, even though his entire being hurts and his lungs burn. Pain aside, he’s awake in a way that he’s sure everything around him is real. 

There’s quiet chatter, and someone says something but the inside of his head feels preoccupied. His mind falls tired, and so does the rest of him.

-

The first thing Sehun does when he wakes up is groan. He knows where he is based on the firm mattress underneath his aching body. His muscles either feel worn or he can’t feel them at all. His legs feel dead, his head is stuffed, his arms are sore, and his eyes are heavy, but he manages to open them just slightly before shutting them again. At least he knows it’s around morning or noon.

Deciding to adjust to the light later when the sun is dimmer, he feels something small hit his forehead, just above his nose bridge. Then again, and it hits his eyelid. Another one comes after, and it bounces off his cheek to the side of his pillow. He plans on ignoring it, but by the third attempt, he couldn’t seem to sit still.

“Who the—“ he voice is dry and scratchy, leaving his words inaudible and his throat in pain. Still, he persists, cursing internally at the hoarse feeling of his vocal cords. “Chanyeol?”

He feels something hit his forehead again.

“Guessing the chlorine wipes out your working brain cells.” Lisa’s trademark snark wakes him up completely even if his eyes are only barely open and he can only make out a blurry image of her figure. “Do I look like a 6 '4 tree of muscle to you?”

The scathing tone in her voice isn’t as pronounced, Sehun can tell. Usually it’s sharp and cutting like a blade against his throat, but it lacks its usual acidity. Instead, it’s been replaced with what seems to be a strain of concern.

“What are you doing?”

“Throwing chocolate chips at you,” she replies coldly, flicking another one that he assumes went too far and flew over his head, falling somewhere through the space between the bed and the wall.

“Well,” he pauses to clear his throat. “Can I have some?”

“You’ve got a few already.”

Being in this situation once before, Sehun knows fully well that it would take a few more days for him to be able to move. Lisa seems to understand his awareness of this, hearing something shuffle from her direction. He can feel her roll her eyes at him.

“Open your mouth,” she demands, and he makes a face that he hopes is similar to one that looks confused. “If you can’t catch it with your mouth, it’s not my problem anymore.”

She throws one in the air and Sehun opens his mouth waiting for the drop that doesn’t come. He feels it graze his cheek, and ultimately end up on his side. His second try is luckier, and it falls with ease, making him clench down to bite despite his stiff jaw.

Whatever it is that she’s eating, it certainly isn’t chocolate.

“What the fuck?!”

Lisa laughs at him, loud and proud at his misery, clearly amused at his reaction, and he starts to think that maybe that disgusting thing she’d forced him to eat was worth the suffering.

“Are those coffee beans?” Sehun spat out, trying to get rid of the taste left on his tongue. “That’s  _ evil _ .”

“Cacao nibs, actually. So technically, in a way, it’s still chocolate chips. I fucked up and mixed them in the same bag,” he hears paper crumple before she continues. “Here, I’ll throw two and we’ll test your luck. I want to see how brave the mighty Sehun Oh really is.”

One of them ends up on his cheek and stays there while the other one falls on the floor without a sound.

“Well,” the shuffling happens again, and he thinks he sees her cock her head to the side with her arms crossed. “We have a winner. Are you going to do it?”

On the list of things Sehun likes doing, turning down challenges and disappointing people are incredibly low. If he ends up with another bitter nib in his mouth, he’ll deal with it and move on. He lifts up his right arm and picks up the nib/chip, hovering it over his mouth before popping it in.

“You’re an idiot,” Lisa breathes out while shaking her head.

The chocolate melts on his tongue like heaven.

“Maybe,” he grins smugly. “But a lucky one at that.”

Then the air thickens.

“Ah, luck,” the chair she sits on screeches and he can hear her mary janes tap against the tiled floor as she stands up. “You’ve got a bit of that, don’t you? After all, it was  _ your luck _ that stopped you from nearly drowning to death in the pool two nights ago.”

Her previous amusement disappears and it’s replaced with a furious tone that makes Sehun want the earth to open up and swallow him.

“Oh,” is all he says.

“It was  _ your luck _ that had Chanyeol pull you out of the water before you could’ve gotten permanent brain damage.  _ Your luck _ that he managed to take you here and have the nurse save you even without proper medical help because no one could get you to a hospital with the weather being a bitch.  _ Your goddamn luck _ that kept you from being a cold corpse right now.”

“That was two nights ago?” He repeats. It wouldn’t be his brush with death, but he doubts it would be reassuring to mention.

“Yes. Two  _ fucking _ nights ago. Why? Wish it was longer?”

“No! Of course not, I was just—“ he cuts himself off abruptly, reassessing their current situation, and continues. “I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, if that’s what you’re trying to say. I was just… trying to clear my head. Trying not to think.”

“Well,  _ congratulations _ ,” she jabs sharply. “Job well done. You’ve succeeded.”

Despite Lisa still being obviously angry, it sounds as if it's lessened, so Sehun accepts this as a win. He tries to open his eyes properly, adjusting himself to the light and gritting his teeth when pain shoots up his head. It takes a while before he can see her clearly, and when he does, he falls silent at the sight of her pale face and the dispirited look all over it that makes his chest clench.

He caused this.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly. “It was a dumb drunk accident. I didn’t mean to do anything stupid.”

“You  _ will _ be sorry, and you  _ will _ be avoiding making more dumb drunk accidents for the rest of your time here because Park and I already tipped over every alcohol stash you have down the drain.”

Sehun’s initial feeling is an inevitable annoyance that is quickly replaced with the image of his closest friend and Lisa rummaging through his room while talking about how much of a piece of shit he is for doing something so reckless and stupid. It’s not really something he thought of at first when this entire thing between him and her started, but now that he’s got an idea of what the future possibilities could be, and he doesn’t hate it. Not at all. If anything, it seems as though he likes it.

“Why are you smiling? I’m scolding you, stop smiling, dipshit.” Lisa snaps.

“Nothing,” Sehun hums, his grin growing. “But if I’m quitting, you’re quitting, too. Fair is fair.”

She glares at him and rolls her eyes like she always does, but she doesn’t say anything else.

-

For something that’s meant to be a positive trait, Lisa finds it rather galling that she always holds up on her word even if she doesn’t like it. She expected the cravings because she’s not an idiot and it comes in the mental handbook they hand you over when you first start a nicotine addiction, but are they meant to be this difficult? Well, she knows the answer is yes. Was she well aware that this would happen if she quit? Again, yes. Is it making her more irritated than usual to not smoke? Yes,  _ fuck _ , absolutely. Does she really need to do this to herself? The thing is no— no, she does not. At least not in the sense that she’s being physically restrained, but in a sense that somehow happens to matter.

Then she realizes that it didn’t matter before  _ him _ . 

It was his goodness rubbing off on her like how his stupid cologne still sticks to him even when he’s drenched in the rain.

And it’s not just the cravings. Quitting means facing reality. The uglier side of withdrawal, she calls it. Cravings are low tier and can easily be dealt with because nothing candy or the unsanitary chewing of the capped pen can’t fix. But the anxiety, the pissy-er mood, and the difficulty sleeping? All of them are a bitch to go through with. The headaches at night, the inability to stay still, the need for something to calm her down. Or itch. She wants to feel the pollution down her throat. Or feel something. Or something.

Thinking about it is exhausting. Dealing with it is exhausting. It’s all just exhausting.

When she first started, in her head, she thought that maybe the journey to “self recovery” wouldn’t be that hard. Obviously, it didn’t go that way, and all the postcards her friends had sent her along with the letters from her mother’s side — because  _ surprise _ , they  _ exist _ and  _ know she exists _ — to move with them to Man-fucking-hattan had her reaching for her rolling papers. When she remembered that she couldn’t, it only made matters even more difficult.

Difficult like how she has no choice but to internally admit sitting alone like a loser during lunchtime actually makes her feel like shit without the help of a cigarette to get her mind off it. Difficult like how she has to watch Sehun never be alone while overcoming his fuck-up and be surrounded by people who support him and like him for reasons that are actually true while she gets stares with an occasional snide comment from people who don’t even know her that she has to shut down with a glare, and it makes her think that she isn’t what she wants to be and who she wants to be.

When she first received a letter from the man who claimed and proved to be her uncle from New York, she stepped into her bathroom, threw her clothes off in quick fashion, and opened the water to a scalding hot temperature before throwing herself under it, a habit she does to comfort herself. She realizes that it doesn’t work anymore when the steam and heat only remind her that she can no longer feel it fill her lungs.

This led to her figuring out that being outside makes her situation more tolerable. Long walks in places she’s never been in or finding spots where she never smoked at, it carries some of the weight off her shoulders. She also goes to the field when the sky is clear and the teams are practicing or doing other athletic things. It helps that their presence forces her to avoid lighting up and instead, settle for chewing — or gnawing if we’re really being honest — licorice when she wants to keep her mouth and fingers occupied.

Days last longer than she’s used to without any of the cheap alcohol or tobacco. Time is slow and it makes her feel aware. Conscious. It’s as if she’s in a different plane from everyone, including her own self. She can feel the seconds passing by, and the pain that reminds her she’s not numb, along with the insomnia that reminds her she’s awake and alive, all create this reminder for her that she’s not strong. She’s weak. She won’t get better.

Eventually, she will spiral. She will hit the ground. She will remember that she amounts to nothing.

And the distress triples in size when she sees Sehun go on with his life so easily. It’s as if he was made to jump boundaries or cross burning bridges. He looks trouble in the eye and leaps over it with ease, slipping back into normality like nothing happened when he  _ nearly died _ and all she did was smoke and wait in helpless, stupid worry until he woke up.

It doesn’t make her feel better. It makes her feel worse. It bruises her ego everytime she looks at him. 

Lisa realizes that if seeing Sehun do better than her only makes her feel like shit, then she’s not going to. She’ll avoid him even more in school than she did before, and avoid acknowledging that he exists within her presence. The only problem is that he isn’t far from wherever she is because for some godforsaken reason, he’s always right there in the corner of her mind and it seems like he’s not going away anytime soon.

Still, Sehun Oh doesn’t struggle. If he did, he didn’t do it much. Lisa, on the other hand, does. And she doesn’t like being reminded of it or have it be rubbed on her face.

She stops herself from going out when it rains, and since the weather’s been mostly bleak, she stays inside of her room for most of the time. If she’s tired of being stuck in the same place, she’ll move to the library where she pretends to study or attempt to as a way to distract herself and when she feels like she might just start chewing tobacco, she’ll immerse herself in something interesting. Something like  _ Harry Potter _ .

It’s when she’s about to finish  _ The Deathly Hallows _ when Park approaches her, hands tucked inside the pockets of his varsity jacket. She can feel the stares from everyone around the library, and much to her personal disappointment, it worries her. Something she never thought she’d outright admit to herself.

“Can I help you?” She asks him, tone indicating that she does not want him in her presence right now. Possibly ever. 

“Are you busy?” He questions back, taking a seat next to her as if they’d been friends forever and not as if she’d only conversed with him a total of three times, all of which orbited around Sehun.

She avoids looking at anything except the book, not wanting to seem interested in whatever Park has to say because she’s not interested. She isn’t. Whatever it is he came for, he won’t get.

“Depends. But the answer is leading towards ‘no’ just in case you want to know,” she replies dryly. At the end of the day, no matter what or who they may have in common, she knows where she stands in social rankings and it’s definitely not with them.

Park’s eyes roam over the borrowed book series and her unfinished homework that she ended up doodling on. Lisa has accepted that she’s set to fail at life, so it’s not like she’s striving for anything higher than an average. Her pride can only take so much damage and getting yelled at by a teacher doesn’t seem worthy of her time. But then again, she did just quit her only hobby of some sort, so maybe she’ll try public humiliation for her new recreational activity.

“It’s Sehun,” Park begins curtly, and Lisa visibly stiffens. “You’re avoiding him. Why?”

“Because I’m trying to keep myself sober,  _ Park _ ,” she says with feigned irritation. “And it’s not really a walk in the park for the rest of us.”

“Don’t say that,” he says while shaking his head. “And don’t tell him that either. It’ll just make things worse.”

Sighing, he picks up her paper and analyzes it. She expected her first reaction to be more aggressive, but then he spoke before she could throw out an insult.

“I honestly thought you’d get it.”

Lisa’s brows furrow and she gives him a glare. “What do you mean—“

“I’ll help you,” he cuts her off, only making her confusion and annoyance both double in size. 

“What?”

She heard it clearly, but the idea of varsity-honor student hybrid Chanyeol Park offering her help for God knows what and for whatever reason never crossed her mind until it was thrown to her face all so suddenly. Lisa keeps her head still from shaking or nodding, wanting to know where this conversation is headed.

“I’ll help you,” Park repeats. “With whatever you want help with. Projects, assignments, notes, everything. Just come with me and go talk to him. Please.”

In her, she tells herself to say no.

Outside, she says nothing.

Then it dawns on Lisa— the bitter realization that the very basis of her indecision is because some part of her wants to know what’s happened to Sehun; that maybe her pride is larger than her ability to refuse him. Because if something  _ has _ happened to him, she worries, just like how she worried while waiting for him to wake up for two days. She wants to be there and chuck it in his face that he’s stupid, irrational, a pain in the ass, everything because she actually cares about him. She wants to remind him not to die like an imbecile. She wants him to be safe.

For some dreadful reason, possibly a cruel joke made by the universe, Lisa has gotten herself attached to Sehun.

“And risk having the entire admin think I’ve been stealing your work? Yeah, hard pass.”

She doesn’t know why she says it instead of just flat out rejecting his offer, but she thinks it’s a poor attempt to save some of her dignity. Denial? Her pride fighting back? It doesn’t matter. It’s lousy, and she knows damn well it’s her trying to persevere through a situation that she knows only ends in one way: Him.

“I’ll tell everyone I tutor you,” Park counters, clearly unaware that she’s already made her decision based on how he pronounces his words with a stubborn hint in his voice that states he won’t be easily persuaded. “And maybe some of the assholes around here will leave you alone. Besides, they only count homework for five percent of the total grade. Only the exams and class participation actually make a difference.”

Lisa gapes at the confession. “How the fuck did you find that out?”

“I’ll tell you after you talk to him,” Park replies cooly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He watches her, and as if he can read her mind, motions to the door. “Let’s go.”

-

“You look like shit,” is the first thing to come out of Lisa’s mouth when Sehun opens the door to his room. She shoves past him with Park trailing behind and turns again to face him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Feel like it too,” Sehun smiles wearily.

She scans his face and notes the circles under his tired eyes, his sunken cheeks, and how his pale skin is almost paper white now that it contrasts the darkness of his hair. His lips are faded, only a bare tint of pink giving it color, and he just looks… dead.

“Are you going to tell her or should I?” Park cuts in, and Lisa’s brow raises, her eyes still focused on Sehun.

Sehun, however, looks away from her.

“He went through the entire bottle last night,” Park says. “I don’t know why, but I’d like to believe he had his reasons. Whatever they are, that’s for him to tell. I won’t defend him, in case you wanted to know. I know about your little sobriety society or whatever you two call your pact, but I don’t think he actually wanted to do it. If he did, he wouldn’t have skipped out on a major meet for a possible scholarship. He basically punished himself for doing it.”

Lisa turns to Sehun, watching him shift in discomfort.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  _ Oh _ .” Park snorts, plopping himself on the desk chair.

He avoids her gaze, but she keeps her eye on him, waiting for him to say something. A minute passes when he finally looks up, and there, she sees him. His exhaustion, his pain, his troubles surfacing. She finds herself taking a step towards him, but she’s still unsure what to do.

“Do you want me to beat the shit out of you if you think that’ll help?” She proposes, not knowing what to say to comfort him or make him feel better.

“Already asked,” Park interjects quickly, saving her from a possibly embarrassing moment. “But I think we should just let him feel whatever it is he wants to feel then pull him out before he does something stupid like this again.”

Sehun shakes his head, wincing right after. “You don’t have to burden yourself with all this. With me. You shouldn’t. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, like we’d believe you,” Park smirks before standing up from his seat and stretching. “Come on, Lisa, let's get him out of here. He looks green enough to blend in with the grass.”

With one last glance at the taller boy’s way, she puts a hand out to Sehun whose head hangs down. Even if his face is mostly hidden, she catches a glimpse of a small smile. A smile she’s seen before while they drunkenly chatted or while he was out with Park talking about whatever it is they converse about. A smile reserved only for his closest friends.

“Fresh air helps with the nausea,” Lisa informs, causing Sehun to groan.

“Please, no talking about nausea.”

The three of them walk out of the dorms and decide to head to the field. To their luck, the soccer team is practicing and Sehun asks them to stay and watch. While the two boys chat, Sehun being engrossed with the team's drills, she’s left alone with her thoughts.

Lisa is a terrible person. She accepted this a long time ago. But awful as it is, she can’t help but to feel relieved that Sehun relapsed like this. She’s not happy that he’s struggling, God knows it’s the last thing she wants, but it’s nice to know that she’s not alone. She supposes that no matter how different she might think or want them to be, they’re still, somehow, in their own way, the same.

-

“My brother used to play soccer.”

With news of a heavy storm hitting their area again, the school ordered everyone to stay in their dorms and wait for the weather to pass. So, as a way to kill time without resorting to unfavorable habits, they retreat to his room. She’s currently laying down on his couch with his old jersey sprawled across her midriff to cover her stomach from the cold after she mindlessly threw on a cropped shirt before coming in. Her visits are often enough that she claims dibs on her current spot and Sehun doesn’t put up a fight about it.

Fiddling with the hem of the jersey’s sleeve, Lisa finds herself unable to respond. She doesn’t know how to react when it comes to things she knows so little about. He talks about bits and pieces of his life so she has a few ideas, but this is the first time he’s opening up to her about something specific, and the right words fail to come to mind. 

“You have a brother?” 

“Had,” Sehun corrects. “He was five years younger than me, but kicked my ass on the field. It was fine though, I admit that I could never play as well as he did. Sometimes, it felt like  _ he _ was the older brother with all the ‘You can do this’ and ‘I believe in you’ pep talks he’d give me whenever I missed a kick or just fucked up.”

He’s never done this before, not even when he was drunk out of his mind in the rain, and her chest squeezes. He doesn’t look anywhere near to breaking. If anything, he looks calm. Collected even, and it’s unsettling. 

“He must’ve been great.” she replies, not knowing what else to say. From what Lisa has known in her whole life, when you’ve mostly had nothing growing up, you don’t really lose much because you can’t. So she doesn’t know how to help him. She can’t tell him to forget about his brother or un-love him, nor can she bring him back. But if he trusts her enough to tell her this, the least she can do is be here for him, even if it’s the barest minimum thing she can do.

And it seems like he doesn’t mind her shitty attempt at comforting him when he grabs her hand and plays with it, grazing his thumb over her scarred knuckles. It’s something he started doing not so long ago whenever he’s deep in his thoughts.

“The best,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “He was better at me in everything. Better at soccer, school, making friends, everything. Probably would’ve been better at being an adult, if he had the chance. He even gave me advice all the time and said that if you want to be better, you have to work to get better, but if you’re only doing it for anything or anyone other than yourself, then you’re just running in circles and you won’t get anywhere.”

“That’s actually really good.”

Chuckling softly, he traces the lines of her palm. “Yeah. He was smart like that. He thought about things I never could. It’s like he points out the obvious to me all the time.”

Then Sehun stops, eyes focused on her hand with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I wonder what he’d say if he saw me now.”

“You seem to know him well enough,” she mutters, feeling his thumb run across her wrist. “What do  _ you  _ think he would tell you?”

“I—“ he stops, sighing as follows the lines of her veins. “I don’t think I can be as accurate, but,” a pause. “I think… maybe he’d tell me to start trying again. To try and live even if he’s gone.”

Lisa hums in agreement and feels his hands squeeze hers before he continues.

“He’d force me to call mom and dad and say something to them that’s more than five words. He’d remind me that it’s over, and that there’s nothing I can do to change what happened, but I shouldn’t stop my life. He’d say that it’s not my fault, no matter how much I tell myself that it is. If he’s feeling it, he’d probably add that I need to stop being an idiot who spends his time moping around instead of doing something productive.”

“I think,” he looks at her, lips curled on one side. Lisa finds a spark in his eye, not burning and definitely far from a flame, but it’s there. The light at the end of the tunnel. “He would’ve liked you.”

There’s a feeling in her chest that doesn’t quite match the previous ones.

“I think I would’ve liked him too,” she admits quietly.

They stay that way for a while, with only the rough winds and the patter of the rain to accompany them. 

“I… I don’t think I can say anything more than that.”

Tentatively, she intertwines her fingers with his, unsure if what she’s doing is right until she feels him lock their hands together.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she reminds him. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to,” he reassures, bringing his other hand up to clasp with his, holding hers in between. “Eventually, I will. But right now… this is the most I can do.”

It’s been a couple of months since they started being whatever it is that they are. In those months, Lisa has learned to share some things with Sehun that she struggled to admit to her own friends. Things that she kept in her head after being constantly shunned. Things that she never said because she was still afraid of being rejected. Whenever she tried with anyone else, some type of excuse would suddenly come to mind and she’d use it to avoid the conversation like a defense mechanism. With Sehun, it slipped out of her naturally. She won’t tell him this, at least not now, but the most honest she’s ever been with herself is whenever she’s with him.

It takes one look from him to let her know he feels the same way.

Lisa nods, not pushing it any further. “Okay.”

Silence engulfs them again for a moment. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, rubbing her hands between his to warm them. “Your hands feel like ice and I’m worried you’re actually a corpse.”

“Just 25 degrees freezing.”

_ Tsking _ like he’s disappointed with her, he stands up. “You should’ve just said so.”

In a blink of an eye, Lisa is pushed to the backrest and feels Sehun’s body compress with hers in the small space and start to make things more bearable with his built-in heating system. His jersey is caught in between them, but she can’t really think properly when she's pressed against him, so close that his warm breath fans her bangs. A comment about personal space ends up being swallowed when she finds the situation entirely not horrible.

“I think I’m going to learn how to knit so I can make you an actual blanket,” he comments, placing an arm over her. “You know, to warm your cold dead heart, cold dead hands, and cold dead feet up.” 

With a glare, she tries to push him off but he’s too big and if she’s honest with herself, she kind of doesn’t want to. “I will kick you.”

“I mean, I do need something else to entertain myself other than bother you.”

“Oh please,” Lisa huffs, no longer fighting for an extra inch of space and allowing herself to bask in his warmth. “You’re as annoying as a forgettable chipped nail. You’re not that special.”

Sehun gasps dramatically, lowering his head to lessen the gap between them. “I’ll have you know I’m  _ very _ special. I’m friends with you.”

With him this close, Lisa almost forgets how to breathe.

“Haven’t you heard?” She begins, ignoring how her heart is about to blow itself up like a bomb. “I’m a horrible person. Being friends with me is practically a curse.”

He gives her a look, and it’s different from his usual ones. It’s serious, lacking the playfulness he always has. With her shirt lifting from her movement, an inch wide space of skin is exposed and she can feel his fingers on the small part of her back, making it much harder to focus.

“Yeah, well,” he whispers with a smile and her bones feel like they’re rattling from how hard her heart is pounding. “They don’t know you the way I do.”

It’s meant to be lighthearted. Honest and lighthearted and such a  _ him _ answer. But she can’t ignore how nice it feels to be this close to him, to have him talk to her like this, to be like this with him. Just them. Alone.

She attempts to change the subject. “What about writing? You any good at that?”

“No, actually,” he darts his tongue across his lips and Lisa forces herself not to slap him right there. “If anything, I suck at it. Chanyeol kicks my ass about it all the time because I won an essay writing contest once in the sixth grade and now I can’t write anything past three sentences.”

This is too domestic, Lisa thinks to herself. Too comfortable. Too good. It can’t be real. She doesn’t get nice things. When she does, it’s very rare that they stay with her. She still wonders everyday why Jisoo, Jennie, and Rosie still write to her and send her packages even though she can’t repay them. But Sehun’s pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear and it’s impossible to think this is all in her head, a fictional world she created to replace the high of nicotine, because she can feel him. Lungs moving up and down, pulse beating, warm body. She feels all of him.

“What do you want to do?” She asks him.

“Hm,” she can feel the pulse on his wrist, and it’s oddly comforting. “I think I want to learn how to bake.”

“Don’t. If you start any hobby that involves food, I’ll be forced to eat everything, then gain weight, then grow out of my wardrobe and I don’t have the money to get new clothes.”

“Then I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Of course you will,” Lisa scoffs. “Show off.”

“And what about you?” he shoots back with a competitive tilt of the head like he’s sizing her up. “What do you want to do?”

“Well,” she thinks about it for a moment, not noticing how he’s looking at her as she ponders. “If you ever decide to make a cake, I want to have a try at decorating.”

-

The weather isn’t as terrible as terrible anymore, and they decide to watch the soccer team practice again. Sehun tries to teach her a few things about the sport and comments on the players, but she doesn’t really understand. Lisa must think he doesn’t notice that she’s utterly confused, but he does, and it makes him feel nice that she’s trying to get it even if she doesn’t have to.

She holds up an umbrella when the rain begins to pour a bit harder, tilting it towards his direction and pretending that she doesn’t notice how she’s getting wet. Sehun has learned that Lisa’s way of showing she cares involves coming off as if she doesn’t, and though the action has him smiling, he huddles closer to her so she can be covered as well. It helps that she’s somewhat enthused by his natural body temperature because it keeps her from pulling away from him.

“Why did we go sober again?” she mumbles, eyes still focused on the field. “My tits are about to fall off my chest and a cigarette could really be of good help right now.”

Sehun chuckles at this, pretending not to notice how she watches him do so. Somewhere along the month they’ve spent together, they mindlessly broke the tension and began joking about their previous vices. He was mostly afraid that mentioning anything close to smoking would only make her want to do it, but he knows deep down that the crave isn’t something that just leaves easily. So acknowledging the fact that it existed and having a laugh over it is a better way to move on from it than letting it build up to an eventual relapse. 

“Maybe if you didn’t argue with me and wore more layers…” he trails off teasingly, finding himself immune to her indignant front. Lisa prides herself on looking better than anyone for some reason, but it’s always at the expense of her comfort. He begins to slide off his jacket, grinning childishly as he throws it over her shoulders.

“This is way too cheesy, even for you,” she protests. “Jokes over, take it back!”

Sehun ignores her by throwing the hood over her head which she takes off quickly right after and pretends not to see how she pulls the jacket closer to her.

Pleased with what he’s done, he smiles smugly. “It looks better on you.”

“Fuck off.”

Lisa wraps her arm around his and rests her head on his shoulder. Instinctively, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him. She constantly claims about how he’s too warm to be a normal human being, and every time she does, they end up with their bodies tangled on his couch and her clutching onto him like her life depends on it. If being her personal heating pad means he gets to see her sleep on his chest and feel her trace messages on his chest about things she’s still afraid to tell him out loud, he doesn’t really mind. He doesn’t want to be anything else.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he feels the discarded wrappers from Lisa’s candy stash. She carries an assortment with her all the time, and he’s started carrying a few in case she runs out. If he’s completely honest, Sehun has his worries over the quantity of sugar she consumes in one sitting, but Lisa’s health isn’t declining, and she’s still alive, so he tells himself it’s fine. It’s a significantly more harmless vice with a craving that can easily be ignored.

But the urge to tilt her chin, cup her face, and close the gap between them is one he can no longer turn away from.

Lisa makes something that sounds similar to a squeal, jumping at the suddenness, causing her to bite down on his lip before shifting her weight and kissing him back, one hand loose around his neck and the other clamping on his shoulder. His hands come down to her hips, lifting her to his lap as they go from just kissing to having a full-blown make-out session at a speed that contradicts her initial surprise. Her lips are sweet, and he can taste the cherry lollipop she just finished a few minutes ago, and the laugh she makes when he chases mouth when they part makes him believe there’s a star is exploding in his ribcage, bursting and rattling his body in a frequency that feels entirely impossible except it is, and he’s alive to feel it. To feel her.

“Greedy,” she chuckles, and he can’t stop the smile that tugs on his lips. 

“You’re addictive,” he replies, planting one last kiss before she pushes him off.

People could be looking at them right now, staring at their little performance of public indecency, but he doesn’t really care, nor can he find the energy to. He doubts anyone can see their faces, but he starts to imagine what people would think if they could. If someone told him a few months ago that he’d be snogging Lalisa Manoban on the bleachers while the soccer team was doing drills, he wouldn’t even react, believing that something so ridiculous wasn’t even worth laughing at.

Clearly, that’s not the case right now.

“Shut up,” she mutters lightly against his lips before looking over her shoulder to the field where the team is beginning to notice them. “Should we go inside?”

He grins at this. “My room?”

“You make it sound like we’re about to fuck,” she says with an unimpressed face.

“Yeah, well, that’s your own fault for thinking like that,” Sehun counters while fixing Lisa’s bangs, paying no attention to how she’s trying to slap his hand away. “I’m going to put a filter on your mouth one of these days.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t.”

His room is no longer his own. Granted, it still looks the same, but that’s because he knows how to clean. If you go to his bathroom, walk to the sink, and open the mirror cabinet, you’ll find two toothbrushes in a small cup and a few hair ties next to it. Stepping into the shower, you’ll notice how his hanging metal shelves have twice the amount of products one person would need and two towels hanging to dry. In the bottom of his closet drawers, you’ll find a multitude of things that don’t look like they’re his, and on his desk is another set of homework with someone else’s handwriting. You’ll also find EpiPens next to his bedside table on the left side, even though he doesn’t have allergies, beside a jar full of licorice and lollipops.

His room is theirs.

It takes a moment for them to get comfortable on his couch. She’s exchanged her blouse for his hoodie and a pair of boxer shorts while he’s in a white shirt and pajama pants. Her head rests on his shoulder with his arm tucked and wrapped around her figure, making it easy for him to pull her closer if he wants to. The walk back seems to have drained her, and the sound of light rain and his A/C’s faint buzzing lull her to sleep with her hand still holding his.

Their future is unsure like a lot of things: Their relationship, the list of things that could happen in the next seconds, the possibility of a comet hitting the earth and wiping out the entire human existence, and so much more. Lisa wants to visit her family in New York while his father wants him to help at his office in Boston, so the chances of them disappearing from each other’s lives when he just got her are higher than he’d like them to be.

But when she’s here with him with their bodies tangled, breathing, and together, he finds it hard to think about anything else. The uncertainties no longer matter as she pulls him out of his head and reminds them that they are here, whole and alive. If he can only have her for now, then he’ll make it feel like a lifetime.

Sehun looks out his room’s window and stares at the sky. While the clouds are a shade of gray lighter, and the rain is a simple drizzle that lessens in each passing day, the air is still getting colder. Lisa moves closer to him, and he feels the weight on his shoulders fall to the ground as she looks for his warmth. Snow is bound to come anytime soon.


End file.
